


The Perfect Mess

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, family fic, for tkeyla's birthday, with mild porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of it's what Steve pictured when he went to work on Friday; it's a chaotic mess and it's ...them. Eventually, he figures out he's fine with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tkeyla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tkeyla/gifts).



> This is my Happy Birthday fic for Tkeyla on the 1_million_words comm! Hope it was an awesome one, and hope you like your fic. It also fulfills last weekend's challenge (very late) which was Apple Pie. Yum. ;)

“Danny… what the he…” 

Steve stopped in mid ‘hell’ when he caught the rapid sawing motion Danny was making in front of his own throat with one side of a flour-coated hand. 

The kitchen table was covered in it. Flour. The floor, too. There was a sheen that looked like sugar all over the place, along with piles of apple peels oxidizing, perfuming the air. In addition, his nose picked up notes of nutmeg and cinnamon.

He heard a clonking from behind the open refrigerator door, and then he saw her: Gracie, the reason for the silent ‘hey, watch your language babe,’ was bringing her dad a beer.

“You’re home early?!” 

She said it on her way to the drawer underneath the silverware drawer – didn’t need to think or look or ask, just walked over and fished up the bottle opener, brought it to Danny and…when had this happened? When had he ceded control over his kitchen? His house?

“Yeah, uh, hey sweetie. We finished up early. Kono offered to dot the ‘I’s’ and cross the ‘T’s’ since your dad had the day off. So that we could…get a head start on the weekend.”

He felt the full weight and implication in the little pause, but happily Grace noticed it not a bit. Danny did; his eyes came up from the baking tins he was pressing layers of dough into, and though his face stayed straight his eyebrows waggled, one lip turning upward. 

“We’re making apple pies.” Danny said.

“So I _see…_ ” 

Steve went and got his own beer, walking up behind Danny, watching them, chin dropping awkwardly down to Danny’s shoulder. Grace giggled at that, so he kept his head there while he took a sip of his beer, which made her laugh out loud. 

“Maybe you could tell me why you’re making apple pies? That’s the part I don’t get.”

“We are making apple pies,” Danny handed Grace the bowl of sliced fruit, watched her start laying the pieces out on the dough one at very careful time. “Because my darling girl told me she hasn’t had one in so long she’s forgotten what they taste like. We are making it _here_ because I promised you I’d work my magic with your broken dishwasher; make it happy and functional again, which it _is_. I multitasked. And you’re welcome.”

Steve stood up, and let an arm drift around Danny, squeezing him, the palm of his hand flat against Danny’s abs, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt.

They hadn’t been at all demonstrative in front of her, _ever_ , but then again he hadn’t ever come home to find part of his house destroyed by a dessert bomb, either. 

The whole situation had him feeling reckless.

“Thank you,” Steve felt Danny go tense when he reached in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

It wasn’t like he’d stuck his tongue down his throat. Grace had barely noticed, maybe hadn’t noticed at all from the way she was still doling out apples. She had flour on her cheeks, in her hair, and a deeply contented look- like she was in that perfect little place you find when you’re doing something that makes you happy. 

“If you hadn’t come home early, this’d all be cleaned up. I know if you find little, crusty blobs underfoot all week it’ll drive you crazy so…I swear we will. Clean up. Okay?”

“No, Danny it’s fine, I…”

“Promise - spic and span by the time you get back from your swim.”

“I will… go swim. If you don’t mind. Before dinner?”

“Go. The grill will be fired up when you get back, too. I bought fish and veggies so we can indulge in the pie guilt-free.”

It was like Danny had their whole evening planned. Which, Steve realized as he waded in and started on his sidestroke, you probably need to do a lot of, once a kid is involved. 

Those words, _‘a kid involved’_ they stuck in his brain, repeating on a loop. 

It took him longer than usual to lose himself in his swim, but somewhere halfway out he did – he found his flow, his own happy place. Everyone deserved that, their happy place; Grace did. He did. Danny, too. 

It had never dawned on him to wonder if they could have it together? The three of them?

~*~ 

“You forgot it was my weekend with Grace. Right?” 

Danny sank down onto the blanket Steve had brought with them, setting the small glass of milk behind them in the grass, cutting with a fork into the small but entirely necessary additional piece of pie he’d brought along for them to share.

“Yeah, I did. I was driving home thinking about ‘our time’ and then it turned out to be a really different _‘our time’_ than I expected and…it took me a while to adjust. I’m sorry.”

“If you’d rather she and I go back to staying at my apartment on our weekends…”

“No,” Steve nodded at the plate and let Danny feed him a bite. “Don’t want that. At all.”

“What do you want?”

“I want it to be… ‘the usual,’ you know?” Steve said, chewing. “Second nature. I want that we don’t even think about it. That I don’t get… all wound up. Or watch my every move in front of her.”

“It’ll happen,” Danny took one more bite and then set it aside. “’Cause I want it, too. You want it, and I want it; so we’ll make it happen. Only thing it’ll take is time.”

“You really believe what you’re saying?”

“No. I said it to give you false security,” Danny stretched out by him, urging Steve down and fiddling with his shirt buttons. “Of course I do. You know what’s really gonna help?”

“What?”

Steve set a hand over the hand fiddling with his buttons but didn’t stop him.

“It’ll be two years or more before she’s eligible to stay up as late as she chooses.”

“Meaning?”

“We can tuck her in and come down here and fuck around on the lawn….”

“We’re gonna need stuff from the…..” Steve gestured behind them, until a small tube of Astroglide flew by his head, landing next to the pie plate. He chuckled, losing his pants, watching Danny lose his. 

“I saw you walk in the house,” Danny finished prying apart Steve’s shirt, pressing him down with an arm, an elbow. “And you had that goddamn black polo on, the one that’s perfectly worn and linty and…”

“It’s…linty?”

“And so fucking hot on you. And you know it is, don’t you? You bastard….”

“No, Danny, I assure you I don’t. It’s just a shirt to me, it’s my Friday shirt and…”

“All I could think about, all I could _see_ was you pasted to my back with your elbows dug in around my ears. Your body…everywhere over me; those absurd muscles surrounding me and the smell of you…”

“Smell? You make me sound…disgusting.”

At least Steve got the drift of where they were headed; he found the lube and used it to slick his hand and his cock, fucking up into his fist as Danny drifted slowly south, kissing and biting at his chest and his abs and….damn him for knowing exactly where to plant his teeth, the spots that made him jump and twitch and….

“Not disgusting. Delicious. Savory. You smell like cotton and soap and suntanned skin …like… _you_ …”

“Gonna get all romantic on me, D?” Steve goaded, and Danny apparently decided enough deflection was enough; he took Steve’s left ball in his mouth – sucking it, rolling it, doing that figure-fucking-eight thing with his tongue that….

“You better slow down….” It took Steve three full breaths to huff it out, his hand flying on his own dick as Danny took care of his other testicle, pressing fingers into Steve’s hole, his perineum, letting go of long contented ‘mmmmm’ sounds that echoed against his body in ways that further tantalized. “Gonna come if you don’t, _shit_ , I swear I'm gonna…”

Danny laid off. He made sure to get what he’d needed – Steve over him, in him, both of them groaning, unable to get out more than a single syllable. 

He pushed up on his own elbows and knees when he got close, thighs shaking with the strain of the ache in his gut and Steve pinned to his back. They both burst out laughing, sobbing when he came because of how they almost fell off the rails; almost ended up flat out in a filthy, pulsing heap.

Almost. Not quite. 

They kind of stuck the landing.

“You freaking goof,” Danny said, still drawing in long breaths. “You heavy-assed freaking…goof.”

“My ass is svelte,” Steve argued. “I’m top heavy. Your ass…oh, hell, D, I think your ass has ruined me for anyone else’s, ever.”

“Good. That’s part of my evil plan.”

Steve turned him over and kissed him deep and sloppy, because …he knew Danny wasn’t kidding. Not even a little.

~*~

It was worse than the flour and sugar bomb in the kitchen, the mess they’d made of the blanket; pie crumbs and lube and sticky streaks. Steve rolled the whole thing up and tossed it in the washing machine, then went inside to find Danny in the shower, head under the faucet, prepared to be soaped up and to soap Steve right back with slow, gentle hands.

Steve woke up four hours later to the sound of Danny snoring by his ribs, Grace snoring a floor away.

He listened to them for a while, point and counterpoint sawing wood, and somehow he knew he’d never have to worry about the three of them again. 

The perfect mess. 

That’s what they were.


End file.
